


Just Like Old Times

by wyntirrose



Series: Smoke Bombs and Loose Cannons [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Pre-Earth Transformers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntirrose/pseuds/wyntirrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wreckers have asked for Special Ops assistance and there’s only one SpecOps mech who’s worked with them before – much to his chagrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like Old Times

**Author's Note:**

> This take place before Smokey leaves Special Ops to join Psychological Operations. This series can be considered an offshoot of the Thin Line Between series.

“No!” Smokescreen snapped as he glared at Jazz, his doors flaring out in an uncharacteristic display of aggression. “I am not now nor have I ever been a Wrecker and I will not accept this assignment!”

“I’m sorry, did ya think I was giving you a choice here?” Jazz said casually, completely unimpressed by his friend’s anger.

“They are all out of their minds! They have no sense of self-preservation at all to the point that I’d be tempted to call the lot of them suicidal!”

Jazz nodded. “Yeah that’s probably true. But none of that matters any since they need someone from Special Ops on this mission and you’re the only one who’s had dealings with them. Besides, their commander asked Prowler for you personally.”

That brought Smokescreen up short and he cycled his optics in a quick and confused blink.

“Impactor asked for me personally,” Smokescreen said in a flat, disbelieving monotone. “Impactor’s never even met me so why would he ask for me?”

“Impactor ain’t in charge any more,” Jazz said, a hint of sadness in his tone. “Springer’s the CO over there now. An’ you did something to impress him because he wants you to go join them on Lycanthus VIII.”

“Oh you have got to be fragging kidding me! Springer’s in charge? What they didn’t have enough of a death wish as it was?” Smokescreen asked, his tone and body language growing heated. “No. I don’t care if he specifically asked for me by name, I won’t go.”

“Again, I ain’t givin’ you a choice, Smokey, and I gotta say, I expected more professionalism from you,” Jazz said, backing up the statement with a look rarely seen on him. Jazz the Officer not Jazz the mech.

Smokescreen glared at Jazz. For a long time they just stood there staring each other down – Jazz infuriatingly calm while Smokescreen tried to come up with a way out of this without sounding like a spoiled sparkling. When he failed to come up with a single scenario that didn’t end with him running off to some far flung planet like a coward he finally backed off.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “When do I leave and how am I getting there?”

“I knew you’d see reason,” Jazz replied with a laugh, clapping the Praxian on the shoulder. “We’ve arranged for transport for 2300 tonight so you and Inferno still have a few hours to get yourselves together.”

Smokescreen had been nodding until Inferno’s name was brought up.

“Wait! What?”

He never got anything else out as he was grabbed into an enthusiastic embrace by Inferno.

“Come on, kid! Together again just like old times, right?” the big red mech said with a booming laugh.

“Yeah, old times. Right,” Smokescreen said in a low tone, beginning to wonder if maybe running off to Monocus might not be the better plan after all.


End file.
